Face still hidden behind a manila folder, she asked, “Do you want me to share the day with you and your family?”
Yes. Not really. Hell, honestly, he didn’t have a clue.
At his expression, she said, “Thank you, but I already have plans.” Her tone painfully formal, she moved on to the next pile stacked beside her.
“No, you don’t.”
“Oh, so first you issue an invitation your mom asked you to deliver, then you accuse me of lying?”
Garrett smacked his palm to the table. “It’s not like that, and you know it— Sorry. Just sometimes your hoity-toity, Little Miss Perfect routine ticks me off. Don’t you ever just belt out what you feel?”
“I—I feel grateful for your mother kindly thinking of me, but as for anything else…” She shrugged.
Hands braced on the table, he leaned across to kiss her. He kissed her hard. As far from polite as he knew how. And only when he’d had his fill of her taste and smell did he back away, already wanting more.
“I probably should apologize for that, too, but I’m not.”
Fingers pressed over kiss-swollen lips, she shook her head. “No apology necessary. I, ah, okay, wow…” She bowed her head, but Garrett swore he spied a grin. “For the record, I was taught from a very young age that it’s crass to just blurt out whatever’s on my mind. But since you appear interested, Juanita has invited her entire family to celebrate at our house—meaning it’s not an impossibility that a couple hundred people and a Cuban band could show up at my door. As I’m craving a low-key, traditional ham and trimmings, I’d very much enjoy celebrating with your family—but only if you want me there.”
Considering the kiss they’d just shared, of course Garrett wanted to see her every minute of every day, but Christmas was personal. It conveyed an emotional depth he wasn’t sure he’d ever be capable of feeling.
“Should I take your silence as a no?”
He tilted his head back and sighed. “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know what I want? That it’s complicated?”
Laughing, she said, “Complicated? That’s the understatement of the century.” She slid the file she’d been reading before their kiss across the table. “As if whatever’s going on between us isn’t enough to handle, take a look at this—pay special attention to the date.”
Centered in the folder’s crease was an age-faded canceled check. A check for a hundred grand made out to Joan Smith. The date just happened to be a couple days after their son’s supposed death. “Whoa…”
“I know, right? Here we’ve been thinking Daddy sold our baby, but what does this mean? Why would he have paid someone that much money when on the black market, there’s no telling how much he could’ve gotten?”
* * *
HEAD POUNDING, NAUSEOUS and exhausted, Eve stopped by the drugstore on her way home from the office. No doubt stress was making her feel as if she’d been hit by a dump truck, but then Garrett’s kiss might also have something to do with her swimming head.
How could she be so incredibly physically attracted to him, when they no longer worked on an emotional level? Would never work. Her brain understood, so why couldn’t her body figure it out?
A cold rain fell, so she hustled getting from her car inside. The pharmacy was loaded with parents and coughing kids and last-minute gift-seekers. With only one checkout clerk, the line was six deep.
Eve flipped through a magazine, but then looked up when she felt someone staring. She made brief eye contact with the redhead she’d have sworn was the same one Darcie had seen at Fairview Plaza. She may not have given the encounter a second thought save for the vintage Chanel purse Darcie had been crazy for. For any purse lover, it was truly exquisite. There couldn’t be that many in the state—let alone Coral Ridge.
Eve moved up in line.
When a second glance over her shoulder showed the woman gone, Eve chastised herself for being as overly suspicious as her friend. It was a small town. People ran into each other all the time.
Once home, Eve ran a bath, and when she’d finished, and Juanita hassled her about eating, she took her dinner of grilled salmon, wild rice and a salad on a tray in bed. She couldn’t remember ever having been so exhausted except when— No.
It couldn’t be possible.
Fate wouldn’t be so cruel.
Easing her hands beneath her floral comforter, slipping them under the waistband of satin pajama pants, she cupped her womb, wondering, fearing, praying there could once again be life inside.
* * *
“WOULD YOU DO ME A HUGE favor?” Eve asked Darcie at the office Wednesday morning. After a successful news conference, reporting that a third of the illegal immigrants her father had hired now had received expedited green cards, her nerve was bolstered enough to tackle the next item on her to-do list.
“Anything.” Darcie typed out a few words on her keyboard. “Let me finish these last lines and I’ll be right with you.”
Pulse racing, Eve turned toward her own office. “If you’re busy, we’ll do this some other time.”
“I’m good to go.” Rotating on her desk chair to face Eve, she asked, “Want to revise this morning’s official press release?”
“Not exactly…” Part of Eve felt embarrassed for what she needed her friend to do. Another part, an infinitely deeper portion of herself, had been burned so many times, she was afraid to hope there was cause to involve Darcie.
“What, then? I’m at your disposal.”
“Thanks. I, ah…” On the verge of passing out due to her elevated heart rate, Eve figured it was now or never that she made her request. “Um, if you have time, I need you to run with me to the drugstore, then stand by for moral support.”
Darcie’s complexion turned gray. “Are you sick? Is this something serious you haven’t told me about?”
“Possibly,” Eve admitted, “but not in the way you think.”
“Okay, then please enlighten me, because at the moment, you’re kind of freaking me out.”
Eve blurted, “I might be pregnant.”
“What?” Darcie’s shriek warranted her immediately covering her mouth. “Sorry,” she whispered. “No way? You and Garrett? From just that one night?”
“It’s probably in my head.” Eve’s headache had returned with a vengeance. “I’m barely a week late, but the only times I’ve ever felt this bone-deep tired have been—”
“Enough said.” Darcie snagged her purse and two Snickers bars from her bottom desk drawer. Handing one candy bar to Eve, she said, “Let’s ride.”
* * *
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, Eve shared her office couch with Darcie, her still-blank pregnancy test on the coffee table in front of them. Mouth dry, heartbeat drumming out of control, Eve wasn’t sure she’d survive the two minutes the test required.
Darcie asked, “How long has it been?”
“Thirty seconds.”
“I’m sure it’s been longer. Think the timer on your phone is broken?”
Eve checked. “Unfortunately, no.”
With seconds ticking away, Eve was grateful when Darcie took her hand, delivering a squeeze.
“No matter what,” her friend said with a reassuring smile, “everything’s going to work out fine.”
“Promise?” Even though the question was ridiculous in light of the fact she, more than anyone, knew life didn’t come with guarantees, Eve appreciated Darcie’s strong nod.
The timer on her phone dinged.
“I’m afraid to look.” Eve had long since closed her eyes and her palms were sweating.
“What are you hoping for? Preggers or simple stress exhaustion?” Darcie asked.
“Not sure.” Liar. Honestly, Eve deeply, truly wanted a baby. As for how she felt about once again sharing that miracle with Garrett? The verdict was still out.
“Well, you might want to decide sooner as opposed to later.”
“Why’s that?” Eve’s eyes were still closed.
Then she was nearly toppled over by the force of Darcie’s hug. “Because, sweetie, in nine short months you’re going to be a mom!”
* * *
“YOU OKAY?” WEDNESDAY afternoon, Garrett sat next to Eve in the reception area of First National Bank & Trust, waiting to speak with the president about her father’s mystery check. “Your color seems off.”
“Thanks.” Her look could’ve killed.
“Not that I’m not feeling that black dress,” he backpedaled, “just that it’s such a nice day and all, I thought you might’ve worn something a little brighter. I like you in colorful stuff—not that I pay attention to that kind of stuff—clothes and stuff, just—”
Adopting her hoity-toity manner that never failed to annoy him, she asked, “You are aware you’ve used stuff three times in the same sentence?”
“Does it matter?” He wished he didn’t care that the reasoning behind his words was that when she wore bright colors, she struck him as being more approachable. In black, she became the all-business ice princess he had no more in common with than Donald Trump.
“I suppose not.” With her arms folded and her legs politely crossed at the ankles, everything about her shut him out. Why was it, then, he so badly wanted in? Just the other night, his stolen kiss had been an incredible turn-on. The sex before that—insane. Did she not feel the same? The way even now, casually seated in adjoining chairs, their bodies practically hummed?
“Mr. Solomon. Ms. Barnesworth.” The president, Jim Strong, extended his hand for both of them to shake. Garrett couldn’t tell if his shock of black hair was a toupee, but his smile seemed genuine and his handshake was as strong as any SEAL’s. To Eve, the banker said, “I was so sorry to hear of your father’s passing. His service was deeply touching. He was a loyal customer for many years.” Gesturing for Eve to lead the way into his office, Jim ushered the couple inside an oak-paneled space featuring plenty of family photos and three double-hung windows overlooking the south corner of city hall. Despite nonsmoking laws, sweet pipe smoke lingered in the air.
“Thank you.” Eve took one barrel-shaped guest chair.
Garrett took the other.
“As I imagine you’re ready to get straight to business, I wish I had better news.” From behind his desk, Jim fingered the check Eve had earlier had messengered over. “Unfortunately, as we might’ve guessed from the recipient’s name—Joan Smith—tracking her down was a total dead end. She was never an account holder and as I’m sure you’re aware, Ms. Barnesworth, as your father kept personal accounts well in excess of eight figures, the amount was never even questioned. The recipient was given the funds in cash. Now, for tax implications, I hope you don’t mind, but as we’re all old golfing buddies, I took the liberty of phoning your father’s personal accountant, Cliff Stafford, and he said Hal claimed this amount as a charitable gift.”
Leaning forward, Garrett asked, “So that means it went to an organization?”
Jim winced. “Not exactly. Apparently, Hal refused to disclose the name of the charity, so Cliff didn’t allow the deduction. Now, what made the incident especially stand out in Cliff’s mind was the fact that ordinarily, any time he denied your dad a deduction, Hal pitched a good old-fashioned fit. I loved Hal like a brother, but when it came to dealing with money, he could sometimes blow like a hurricane. In this instance, according to Cliff, your dad never so much as flinched about having his deduction denied.” Sliding the check across the desk toward Eve, Jim continued, “We’re all rather stumped. I even asked some of the tellers who were with us at the time the check was cashed, and all they remember is that the recipient was a woman, wearing an obvious blond wig, covered by a scarf. As this was a large sum of money and Hal is—was—our largest single depositor, his writing a check for this large a sum to an unknown woman wagged some tongues. This poorly disguised woman offered an apparently valid state ID bearing the name Joan Smith and placed the bundled cash in a Neiman Marcus shopping bag. That was that.”
Garrett glanced to Eve to find her eyes shining.
Upset to have hit another dead end? Or that her father had been caught in one more lie? As she wore her best stone-faced expression, he’d never know.
“Again, I’m very sorry.” Jim stood. “I’d hoped to be able to help provide whatever information you’re needing.”
“It’s all right.” Eve stood, extending her hand. She’d already tucked the check into her purse. “Thank you for your time.”
In Garrett’s Mustang a few minutes later, he found Eve’s vanilla expression beyond annoying. “That was total BS. I think he’s hiding something.”
“What gave you that idea?” She dug in her purse for a mint.
“Because he should’ve had more on this mystery woman. I thought with that much cash, somebody needed to be notified? DEA? FBI? At the very least, the IRS?”
She chewed her peppermint. “They probably were notified, but under the woman’s real name. Her only crime was in using what I’m guessing was a false ID. Although just to be safe, want to do a quick search for Joan Smith?”
“No, dammit.” Garrett hit the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. “What I want is for one thing to go right.” He wanted Eve to show the same passion in searching for their son as she’d shown that morning on TV, during her news conference. What he craved most of all was to be able to trust her like he had when they’d been sixteen. People—his friends and parents—told him he’d been crazy for claiming to feel real love for Eve. They’d been kids. But he’d known. As a logical man who dealt in tangible evidence, there was no other explanation for why only she had held the capability to hurt him this bad. He’d loved her with every breath of his being and she’d dumped him like a proverbial bad habit. She’d dumped him and now here he sat, too many years later, in a stupid parking lot still as furious as the day he’d first learned she was gone. “I need just one damned thing to go right.”
“Relax.” She reached out to him, holding his clenched hand. Her touch acted as a balm and his breathing deepened. He hated that she held that power over him. “We will find our son. Apparently, not today, but even finding the check was a break. We’re not even halfway through Daddy’s files. Just think what else we may stumble across.”
“I’m not used to stumbling.”
“I know. Me, neither, but sometimes you have to adjust.”
He growled.
Chapter Ten
Two days before Christmas, Eve had managed to snag someone else’s cancellation appointment with her gynecologist. Having lost two babies and had one stolen, she wasn’t taking any chances with this current miracle growing inside.
“This is a pleasant surprise.” Dr. Seymour bustled into the small, homey room with Eve’s chart in her hand. The doctor, with her long, blond hair, was an aging hippy and fought technology. The offices as a whole were done in bright ’70s colors with plenty of posters bearing happy families, peace signs and rainbows. “When my nurse told me you’re here for a pregnancy t
est, I did a double take to ensure I had the right file.”
Face flushed, Eve fanned herself. “I surprised myself with this one.”
“How about the baby’s father? He excited?”
Wincing, Eve admitted, “He doesn’t know.”
“Ah—” the doctor smiled “—planning a romantic surprise announcement?”
“Something like that.” Eve fought the childish urge to cross her fingers while lying. Of course, she’d tell Garrett, but in her own time. She’d suffered two miscarriages. Keeping this baby a secret until he or she successfully made it at least into the second trimester hurt no one.
“I love a good surprise. I told Randy about our fourth daughter while snorkeling in St. Thomas. Best day ever.”
Knowing her experience with Garrett wouldn’t be anywhere near that special, Eve just smiled.
“As I’m sure you knew, our test was also positive, but considering your history, please take care of yourself. Eat right. Drink plenty of fluids. No twelve-hour days at the office. In fact, now would be a great time to delegate. All that said, I don’t want to frighten you. Just because you’ve had a miscarriage in the past doesn’t mean you can’t have a perfectly healthy baby now.”
Shoulders sagging in relief, Eve fought tears.
“Hey…” The doctor rubbed her back. “With losing your dad and the recent fuss at your company, you’ve been through a lot. Give yourself permission to take it easy and enjoy this pregnancy. You deserve all the happiness a baby can bring.”
* * *
DR. SEYMOUR’S OFFICES were on the third floor of a medical complex. Upon reaching the lobby, Eve made a brief stop in the restroom before heading to her car.
A sudden breeze caught the pamphlets the nurse had given her, along with a vitamin sample pack from her purse’s side pocket. When she knelt to pick it all up, a reflection caught her eye. Seated on a bench not ten feet away was the woman who carried the vintage Chanel. At first glance, to the average onlooker, she seemed to be checking her makeup, but as she had the night in the pharmacy, Eve couldn’t shake the feeling the woman had been watching her.
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